


Late Night Tea

by StephirothWasTaken



Series: No Magic No Kingdom AU [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baby Noctis, But it's not a birthday fic, Disabled Character, Gen, Gladio is asleep, Happy Birthday Noctis, No Magic No Kingdom AU, Paraplegia, sad noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-07 21:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StephirothWasTaken/pseuds/StephirothWasTaken
Summary: Clarus notices that Noctis is awake late in the night, and something is obviously bothering the twelve-year-old boy. He sits down with him to find out what's wrong.





	Late Night Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! I came up with the idea of this at midnight, which is super annoying because I would have preferred to come up with this idea a couple of weeks ago so I would have had plenty of time to edit it before posting it on Noctis’s birthday.
> 
> Still, I don’t think it’s half bad for something I rushed out there. I did spend a little too much time talking about the friggin’ tea, and I stubbornly wanted to keep those parts in there. Maybe I’ll go back and edit this when I’m feeling more sensible.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Clarus was walking down the hall of the Lucis Caelum estate after helping a tired Regis Lucis Caelum get into bed when he spotted light spilling into the hallway from beneath Regis’s son Noctis's bedroom door, and he could hear the flutter of pages turning, confirming that the twelve-year-old boy was awake. It was well past midnight, and that had to mean he was having trouble sleeping.

The kid loved to sleep, and he never missed a chance to get it. Even on his worst days, it was easy for him to slip into a deep sleep that difficult to rouse him from.  
Clarus knocked on the door, wincing as he remembered his own son was sleeping in the same room, and Gladio was a much lighter sleeper than Noctis was.

There was a shuffling of blankets, and Clarus heard Noctis transfer himself into his wheelchair. A quiet moment later, the door opened a crack, revealing a large eye and a messy mop of black hair.

"Uncle Clarus?" Noctis whispered.

Clarus ducked down so it was easier for his six-feet-four-self to whisper to him:

"Hey, kiddo. What are you doing up this late?"

"I can't sleep."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

“I don’t know.”

“Noct, I’ve never known you to have trouble going to sleep before, so it must be pretty serious.”

Noctis glanced away from the door—likely at Gladio, who would be curled up on Noctis's king-sized bed and sound asleep, judging by the soft snoring that came from the room.

"Shall we go somewhere where we won't wake him up?" Clarus asked.

Noctis opened the door wider, and he gave Clarus a nod of his head. He followed him down the hall, and they walked together—Noctis pushing the wheels of his wheelchair and Clarus flicking on lights as they went—to the lift that would carry Noctis down the stairs. Clarus knew better than to offer to help him settle into the seat, and as the boy traveled down, he made sure to walk ahead to make sure his second wheelchair was within his reach.

“Which cup do you want?” Clarus asked as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets.

“Malbuddy.”

Clarus should have figured. He had thought Noctis would grow out of his love for cartoons, but as he has gotten older, his love for them seemed to strengthen over time rather than wane. Even Gladio, who read far fewer comics than Noctis did, liked to watch them from time to time, and it had gotten worse when Cor, a close friend and less favored uncle of Noctis’s, had started dating that Galahdian kid Nyx.

With a nod, Clarus grabbed the garish malboro-shaped coffee mug, which had a few tiny chips along the bottom to show that Noctis has shown it a great deal of love over the years, and he grabbed one “World’s Best Dad” in fancy calligraphy printed on the side.

"So what's been on your mind, buddy?" Clarus asked as he poured some water into the coffee mugs and stuck them in the microwave.

Noctis bit into his bottom lip, and he gave the floor a sullen look, blue eyes a darker shade than he had ever seen them.

"It is bad dreams again, Noct?"

It had been four years since the accident that had left Noctis paralyzed from the waist down, and he understandably had nightmares from time to time.

"No, no bad dreams," Noctis said.

“Is your back hurting you again?

From Clarus’s understanding, Noctis had a total lack of feeling in the lower half of his body, but there were plenty of times when Regis had called him in the middle of the night crying because Noctis was crying because of pain in his back.

“No, my back’s not hurting me,” the boy answered.

The microwave beeped. Clarus took the mugs, and he found a box of tea bags with chamomile. Noctis was no fan of it and would prefer hot chocolate, but the boy knew better than to complain to his uncle about food or preferences in beverages. His father might have caved every time Noctis batted a watery eye, but Clarus knew better than to give a child sugar when they were having difficulty falling asleep.

Clarus grabbed the mugs, and he and Noctis went into the sitting room. He flipped the switch beside the door with his elbow, and the lamps on the side tables gave the room a dim glow. They sat around an ornate coffee table that was older than Clarus, a forty-seven-year-old man.

“Did something happen at school?” Clarus asked.

“School is okay.”

Clarus reached over, and he brushed the hair out of Noctis’s face. It needed to be cut to keep it out of the boy’s eyes, but considering his own hair had been shoulder-length in his youth, he was not one to judge anyone’s preferences for hair length.

“What is it then, Noctis?” he asked. “Is it something you feel like you can talk to me about?”

Noctis's brow wrinkled at that, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Clarus thought he never looked more like Regis in those moments of quiet contemplation.

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay,” Clarus added. “We can just have some tea and talk about whatever you want.”

Clarus was a sterner man than Regis was, but he understood that time was needed to understand your thoughts and feelings, particularly for those who were artistic and introverted, like Noctis—the complete opposite of himself and Gladio.

Clarus's father had never been understanding of emotional and mental health. It had taken Clarus fighting the most devastating war in human history, watching his friends die or wither into weary husks of human beings, to get him to understand that the world needed to be a better one than the one he had been born into.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” Noctis mumbled.

Clarus’s eyebrows raised to his forehead at the boy’s words. Of all the things he had expected to hear from Noctis, that was not even on the list.

“Noctis, what on Eos— I’ve never— Who said you were selfish?”

His spluttering brought a small smile to Noctis’s lips.

“No one to my face.”

“So what makes you think you’re selfish?”

Noctis’s face went back to his look of contemplation, but Clarus noticed that his large eyes were shinier, full of unshed tears.

“I miss my dad.”

Clarus understood then. The Lucis Caelums was a cursed family. Centuries ago, they had been the kings and queens of Lucis, but they had given up their monarchy to let Lucis become a democracy. They became powerful businesspeople instead, and that had strangely given them even more political power in the world.

It had also given them crippling loneliness. Money was power, and power meant real friends were rare. It also meant that sometimes children grew up with nannies instead of loving parents. Regis tried to be there for Noctis, and in comparison to how little he had seen his own father, he was doing better. This kid even adored his father while Regis could not say the same about Mors.

Clarus sandwiched one of Noctis's tiny hands between his two large ones. Noctis lowered his head so that his hair hid the fat tears streaming down his face, and there was a slight tremble in his chin.

“He’s been really busy lately,” Noctis explained, voice thick with emotion, “and we don’t even have dinner together anymore. I know it's because really busy at work, and it's important that he works. But I just miss him.”

Clarus felt sharp pangs in his heart as he watched Noctis’s shoulder shake as he cried. He realized the boy was making an effort not to break into sobs in front of him.

"Noctis," Clarus said, "look at me."

Without lifting his head, Noctis turned his gaze toward his uncle, looking at him through his long bangs.

"I want to tell you something important about your dad," Clarus began. “I know he doesn’t like talking to you about your grandfather Mors, but you’re aware he wasn’t the kindest man in the world to your father, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“On the day you were born, Noctis, I witnessed that man look at you with all the love the world, like there was not a thing he would do for you if it meant you were safe and happy. He wanted to be a good father to you.”

Noctis sniffed, and he rubbed at his eyes with his free hand.

“But he’s not perfect,” Clarus continued. “Sometimes he gets an idea in his head, and he gets lost in them sometimes. It’s up to the people around him to keep his ideas from making him float too high. People like me, your uncle Cor, and you.”

He gave Noctis’s hand a gentle squeeze for emphasis.

“Like me?”

“Noctis, you’re his entire world. If he knew you were hurting, and you didn’t tell him, he would be devastated. He wants to be the best father he can be."

Noctis's face softened, and the corners of his mouth turned just slightly.

"Okay, I get it."

Clarus leaned forward and kissed Noctis on the forehead. He smiled at the boy, and he ruffled his hair.

"So, we need to come up with a plan," Clarus began, "to get him a moment to listen to you."

"I don't want to bother him while he's busy."

"Well, you're going to have to because how else is he going to know that you need more time with him?"

"What should I do?"

Clarus already knew what to do, but he lifted a hand to his face and tapped his chin with a finger for dramatic effect.

“Regis might still be awake,” he said. “He usually needs to read before he can get himself to sleep.”

Noctis pouted at him.

“You want me to go talk to him now? I don’t want to wake him up.”

“I’ll check on him first, and if he’s asleep, you can talk to him first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Clarus grabbed the mugs of tea, which might have had plenty of time to steep by now, not that he was paying attention to the time.

“I’ll let you both have these,” Clarus said, “if you don’t mind.”

Noctis wrinkled his nose, but again, he knew that his uncle was expecting him to drink it and offered no protest.

They went back to the stairs. Clarus flipped off lights with his elbows as he went. Noctis rode the lift up the stairs while Clarus ascended slowly so he would not spill the contents of the coffee mugs. Once they reached Regis’s bedroom, he set the coffee mugs on a table in the hallway, so he could duck his head into the room without worrying about them.

There was a dim light on next to Regis’s king-sized bed. It was a much too large room with doors to a bathroom and multiple walk-in closets. Regis also had an antique desk and a sitting area that would be the perfect place for the two Lucis Caelums to talk.

Regis was sitting up in bed with pillows holding him upright, and he had his right leg elevated on a couple more pillows to help ease the swelling in his knee, which had been injured during the Great War. He looked up from a book in his hands. His green eyes looked comically large behind his reading glasses.

“Clarus?” Regis said. “Is something wrong?”

“Hey, Reggie, you have someone who wanted to talk to you.”

Clarus stepped aside. Noctis took a deep breath, something he must have learned to do during the many therapy sessions he had gone through since his accident four years ago, and he pushed the wheels of his chair forward.

Reggie’s eye softened. He looked at his son with the deepest and purest of adoration.

“Ah, my dear Noctis,” he said.

“Hey, dad.”

Regis set his book aside without sticking a bookmark in it, and he set it on the side table.

“What are you doing up so late?”

“He told me he couldn’t sleep,” Clarus said, and he ruffled the boy’s already messy hair. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and I made tea to help both of you sleep.”

“That’s very kind of you, Clarus.”

Regis winced as he moved his leg, and Clarus held up a hand.

“Don’t move just yet. I’ll help you.”

Clarus had no trouble bearing most of Regis’s weight as he helped him walk to the sofa, and he placed a throw pillow underneath his leg to keep it elevated.

“Noctis, your hair is a mess,” Regis said, and he carded his fingers through his son’s hair in a futile attempt to untangle it.

“Dad!” Noctis grumbled, and he swatted at his father’s hands.

Clarus chuckled at them. He left the room to bring them their coffee mugs of tea. Noctis was animated as he told Regis about some of the shenanigans he had gotten into at school, and Regis was nodding along, the look of adoration never fading in his eyes as he listened.

Clarus shut the door behind him as he left them alone, and he walked down the hall toward one of Regis’s many guest bedrooms.

There was not a single doubt in his mind that the Noctis would fall asleep within the next hour, and Regis, despite his swollen knee, would carry Noctis all the way to bed, tears glistening in his eyes as he realized his precious son, his greatest love in the world had missed him terribly while he had been working overtime to help make his newest business venture work properly.

As he passed Noctis’s room, he opened the door to check on his son. Gladio laid flat on his back on the bed, and his limbs were spread wide, taking up as much space in the bed as possible.

Clarus smirked at his son. The Amicitias were notorious bed hogs, and his children were no exception.

He turned off the light that Noctis had been using to read something—one of his comics if the small stack of them on his side table was any indication—and he gave his fifteen-year-old son a peck on the forehead. In the dim lighting of the room, he could see Gladio scrunch up his nose, but he otherwise remained undisturbed.

Clarus left him alone in the room, and he continued on his way to the guest bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s understandable if it’s disappointing that there’s no discussion between Noctis and Regis, but I wanted to keep this in Clarus’s perspective. He was more interested in letting the conversation be just between the two of them without any disturbances.
> 
> Besides, I might write it as the second chapter of this someday? I’m trying to write two original stories on a tight schedule, so I can’t promise I’ll make time for it, though certainly let me know if you’re interested.
> 
> I have written this after working out some details that in the longer fic that I am still definitely going to work on someday (I pinky swear), and I tried avoiding any spoilers for that. It’s no secret that I am putting Noctis in a wheelchair in this universe, but I have thought up stuff that I hope will make it more interesting than it just being “an accident.”  
I don’t plan on posting anything from that story until I’ve written it completely.
> 
> Please, let me know what you think! Comments, whether praise or criticism, likes, and subscriptions are all appreciated. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Come yell at me on social media!  
[Twitter](https://twitter.com/StephRitaClark)  
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End file.
